


At the Shoreline

by tuesday



Series: Author's Favorites [11]
Category: Anthropomorphism, Deeply Strange Deep Sea Animals, Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, F/F, Fantasy, Fridge Horror, Implied Cannibalism, Selkies, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 05:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13140438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: The stranger came in every Wednesday, when the sun was low and the tide was still coming in.





	At the Shoreline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/gifts).



> Thank you so much to Rosefox for all the help!
> 
> Happy Yuletide, Sath!

The stranger came in every Wednesday, when the sun was low and the tide was still coming in. She was so tall that she had to stoop as she stepped into the bar, and her shoulders were broad enough that Aggie was always amazed she fit through the door frame straight on. The stranger's calves were like sculpted granite, and her biceps were thick enough that Aggie was sure they'd be a better perch than a porch swing, supporting her weight with nary a tremble. Aggie had spent perhaps too much time fantasizing about this. 

The stranger's hair was a pale grey, and her skin was speckled with near-white birthmarks. She had a cute little button nose, short and upturned, and the unfocused gaze of someone short-sighted and too stubborn to wear glasses or contacts. Aggie had no clue whether she was in her twenties or her sixties. Aggie knew only that she was beautiful.

And for the first time ever, Aggie's Wednesday obsession had showed back up in the same salt-stained clothes, but on a Thursday afternoon.

"Stop staring," Aggie told herself, a reminder she needed every week, though usually only the once, and ducked back into the kitchen. Her brother had brought a fresh shark skin for making kæstur hákarl, and while Aggie tended toward making simpler dishes, this once, she wanted to impress. Maybe, finally, Aggie could talk to her. Maybe Aggie could get a name to go with her dreams of something a little more substantial. Maybe this was the start of something momentous and amazing. 

Aggie clapped her hands to her cheeks. She slapped them a couple times. "Right. You can do this. You can definitely, absolutely do this."

Within seconds, Aggie was gagging. She definitely, absolutely could not do this. It didn’t look right. It didn’t smell right. After a fraught twenty minutes of trying to juggle hacking the skin into pieces with preparing something, anything, for the supper crowd, she fled the kitchen. Her father was working the counter, and Aggie was willing to beg. 

"He brought you what?" Papa said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me go see. Mind the bar."

The stranger was seated at the far end, a half-full mug in hand. The attempt to impress via fancier fare was a disaster, but maybe Aggie still had a chance! She sidled up, pasting on a smile that was likely far too tremulous to flatter, but nevertheless the best she could do. "Can I, um. Can I get you a refill?"

The stranger squinted down at her (she was so tall!) and then back at her mug. She hefted it cautiously, as if to judge its fullness, then held it up for Aggie to see that yes, it still had half to go before it was empty. Aggie's face was a shade of crimson she was grateful the stranger probably couldn't see. The stranger shook her head.

"I'll just, um." Aggie hooked a thumb over her shoulder. She scurried back toward the kitchen door before remembering her new responsibilities; she settled for hiding at the other end of the bar.

Her oldest sister, on her way back from ferrying food to one of the patrons seated in the corner booth, gave a high whistle that mimicked a crashing plane, complete with a "Krrshkk" at the end and accompanying hand gestures. Aggie buried her face in her hands. Fingers stroked her hair on the way past, and Anna said, gentle and much kinder, "Cheer up, it happens to the best of us."

"Nnngh." There was a reason Aggie stuck to the kitchen. Maybe she should—

"YOU WHAT?" Papa did not sound happy. Aggie was fine staying out here a little longer.

After a while, Papa stormed back out of the kitchen. He ignored Aggie and went straight for the end of the bar that held the stranger. He murmured something, low, urgent, and apologetic. It sounded like a question, but Aggie was too far away to hear. The stranger gave a little grunt that sounded something like an affirmation. Papa sounded even more urgent and apologetic with his next question. The stranger shrugged. Papa let out an explosive sigh and put his face in his hands.

"Aggie. Get over here." Hesitantly, Aggie did so. Papa put a heavy hand on her shoulder. To the stranger, he said, "This is my youngest, Aggie."

"The cook?" The stranger had a deep, rumbling alto of a voice. Aggie felt herself go pink.

"And she manages the set of flats by the sea. Usually they go to tourists, so there should be something available." Papa gave Aggie a stern look. "She'll get you taken care of. On the rest, I'll see what I can do."

And Papa left her there.

"Um, hi. I'm Aggie." Immediately, Aggie wanted to slap herself. The stranger was quiet. Was that a judgmental silence, or just her usual taciturn nature?

After a moment, the stranger cleared her throat. "The flat?"

"Ah! Yes! Let me just—" Aggie pulled out her smartphone just to give her hands something to do. She already knew what was empty. "Would you prefer something up high or the ground floor?"

"Lower's better."

"I can do that!" Aggie was embarrassingly pleased to do that. The only opening on the ground floor was by the super, which was her. She rarely saw any of her tenants, but it was something. Something shamefully stalker-ish probably, but still something. (This crush was killing her.) "Do you, would you like to go there now, or—?"

The stranger gulped back the rest of her beer in one long draw. Head tilted back, throat working as she swallowed, she was immensely, intensely appealing. Aggie maybe whimpered a little. The stranger placed her glass on the bar with a firm _thock_ sound. "Now's good."

"Right. Yes. Good." Aggie put her phone away. "It's, um, it's an easy walk, and it's already furnished. Did you have any furniture you need moved in? Peter does a side business in moving and hauling things, but I have some friends from uni who could also help if you'd like."

The stranger shook her head.

"Oh. That's good." It really was a short walk, just a few blocks. It seemed at once far too brief and to take forever, as Aggie struggled to find something, anything to say. "Did you live nearby?"

The stranger gave an odd little smile. "Sort of."

"What made you decide to live closer?"

"I didn't."

"Sorry, I, uh—" Aggie decided to let everything lapse into awkward silence, as it couldn't possibly be any more awkward than her peppering her newest tenant with questions. "Just. Sorry."

"Don't be." The stranger patted her on the shoulder. "It's not your fault."

Aggie was sure that this constant rush of blood to her face could not be healthy. The silence this time was much more comfortable. 

Aggie let them both into the building and started the usual spiel on amenities and what to do if anything needed maintenance and Aggie wasn't in her office. She gave the office hours and the hours she could be found at the bar, as well as her cell phone number and the local locksmith's. 

"All that's in the packet, of course." Aggie handed over said packet, along with the application. "Ignore the part about hearing back from us, this is just to get the information to go in your file. Papa's already made the decision that you've got the place. Feel free to drop it in the box or give it back to me directly."

While showing her around the flat—a simple one-bedroom with a small living room and an even smaller kitchen, such that Aggie worried her stranger might starve—she finally asked, "What, um. I'm sorry, but what's your name?"

The stranger gave that odd little smile from before. "Call me Kas."

Aggie pinked. Kas wanted Aggie to call her by a nickname! That was like being friends!

"Well, um. I really hope you like living here. Call me if you need anything—anything at all. Even if you just need help with dinner, considering, uh." Aggie gestured at the tiny kitchen. "I'd love to help or even just, um, just keep you company."

"I will." Kas's smile became a little wider, grew teeth. She had more to say still. "I promise: I'd love to have you."

When Aggie got back to the bar, the kitchen had been cleared of all signs of the kæstur hákarl, and Papa looked almost as pensive as the day Mama had disappeared. (Left, really—she did say goodbye, in that brash, brief way of hers, stating they were all grown and didn't need her anymore, then something cryptic about sharks, birds, and the sea.) For some reason, he'd turned the sign to CLOSED though it had barely gone six. As she'd walked in, the last few stragglers had been headed out.

"Papa?" Aggie leaned into his side. "Is everything okay?"

"No," Papa said, grim. "But don't you worry. It's not your fault."

"Still. I'm sorry I messed up the hákarl."

Papa shook his head. "We don't serve that here."

"Okay?" Aggie was not sure it was actually okay, with Peter standing cowed in the corner and Anna expressionless beside him. Papa patted her once more on the shoulder. She couldn't help but compare it with Kas's hand, strong and steady. "But, um. Thanks." She flushed at how obvious she'd been. "For the chance to finally talk to Kas."

Papa's gaze was inscrutable. He looked over at Anna. She shrugged. Peter had gone paler still. Papa's grip tightened, almost painful now. 

"Little bird," Papa sounded resigned, sounded despairing, "I think it's time I finally told you more about your mother."

Much, much later that night, Aggie went home, clutching Tupperware full of would-be hákarl that her father had deemed unsalvageable. Despite the smell, she persevered. She prepared a meal, enough for two. Defiant, distraught, she knocked on her new neighbor's door. This belonged to Kas, after all. 

The door opened. "Little fish?"

"Hello," Aggie said, calm descending like a crashing wave. "I've brought you something. May I come in?"

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[audio] At the Shoreline](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176980) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




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